Longshot [Solo]

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

Placeholder for 62nd of Fall 511AV

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

“You are going to have to account for the wind better than that. Remember it varies at differing distances. It can be blowing east here but going west further downrange.” She somewhat chided him as she stood beside him making very pointed reminders that she was indeed the on in charge here.

“Yes mistress” They were out in the forest again and the mentioned target sat a decent distance away from him now. It would be the furthest he had ever shot. The target itself was rather large, but from here it looked no bigger than an apple. The multicolored rings seemed an impossible distance away from him. The red, blue, yellow and black rings all blended together as if to form one multicolored puzzle of near sheer confusion. Even from here he believed that the target was too small; even though he knew better.

The wind here in the forest seemed to change as if it were from a breathing animal. Shifting with every sigh and inhalation. The falling leaves from the branches were good tells as to where the wind was going, but sometimes if he waited too long it would all shift again throwing whatever calculations he had made to the wolves. He had to make accurate calculations and that took time; but if he wanted too long he would have to make new ones all over again. IT was frustrating but he would have to learn to quickly make accurate assumptions; or maybe get a few marks from Avalis and be able to forecast the wind. Now that would be useful.

“Concentrate.” Ildin broke Serrif’s train of thought as she could tell her pupil was drifting again. She always knew by the way his body became lax and his eyes seemed to drift off into nothingness.

“Yes Mistress.” He refocused and began to watch the wind…calculating.

Here where the arrow would leave the bow the wind seemed to be going off to his right due east. It wasn’t too strong but the waving leaves told him it was indeed a present wind. So he would have to compensate to the West. But here the arrow would have a good amount of velocity behind it, so he wouldn’t have to compensate that much. It was further downrange he would have to really worry about it; when the arrow lost some of its travel. There when it was slowing down the arrow seemed to be the most susceptible to wind. That meant that he would have to compensate differently for it … as well as drop itself. The arrows he was using were standard field and target arrows; nothing special about the construction at all. Each one weighed roughly the same as any of the others; varying by amounts only a truly skilled archer would really be able to recognize. Since he was no master of archery he hardly noticed himself.

The distance was astounding, Ildin hadn’t told him just how far it was to target, but she had shown him it before she walked out to place it. Being that he had no clue the length of Ildins stride the target could be at any distance really. Best guess had it at over two hundred feet; but that was only a guess it could be more or less. Every little thing he did twinged the arrow one way or another at this distance. If his fingers hung up on the string for a blink of an eye too long the arrow dove one direction or another. If his body flinched just a hair again the arrow darted off course; then there was the wind. If he misjudged the arrow would land nowhere near target. And then the process of adjusting would take forever because he would over analyze every little thing he did; going over everything he felt and saw to try and determine what had caused the arrow to stray from target. His form had to be perfect, and if his errors were in the least bit consistent he could account for them. But that was a big if in this situation.

Everything mattered at this distance, and he was sure this was meant to be a learning experience about form more than anything else. Because honestly he didn’t see how he was going to hit the target at all from this far. There wasn’t a way to; or one he could easily see at his level of longbow understanding. But that was what Ildin was here for; guidance even if her hand was sometimes rough.

Further downrange the wind was still heading east but it seemed to be less intense than where he was currently. That was a good start. He could feel the crown notch of an arrow between his fingers on his left hand. He supposed practice made perfect and practice was indeed what he needed right now. If he waited much longer the wind would likely shift and all that calculation in his head would be no good at all. An arrow was brought up to the bowstring. The bow brought gently from its horizontal resting position to the vertical ready position. He observed the wind was still holding strong He pulled back steady and touched the palm of his thumb to his cheek, that was his anchor point. With that point reached he made one last observation and aimed his bow West some to compensate for the winds, then up some to compensate for distance.

A gentle breath out he held steady, then gently released the arrow to meet whatever fate he had set it on downrange. At this distance it was like watching a seagull fly out to catch a fish in water. It took forever to reach the target that seemed to be lazily waiting out in the field. At this distance if the target saw the arrow coming it could just duck out of the way, the arrow seemed to take its sweet time getting out downrange. But he waited and watched…and knew almost immediately the results. From this far out you knew quickly if you would make it or not just by forecasting what was going on.

It missed, at first from where he stood the arrow seemed on the correct path. But that was only for the first eighty feet or so. After that point it strayed too far to the right had ne not compensated enough for wind? That was likely. Although there could be other things going on here he was counting on Ildin to guide him here.

“You waited too long to lose the arrow.” She stated plainly as she then gave him a quick breakdown. “You are obsessed with details but you can’t hold onto that bowstring for too long, otherwise you start to fatigue. And you shake even slightly and the arrow vibrates and goes off target. When you make up your mind to shoot just shoot” Her advice was plainspoken but on point. Serrif trusted it so he nodded.

“Yes mistress.” He didn’t even need to be told to get another arrow. Because he knew she would not let him go until he had developed a good amount into this long distance craft.

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

He breathed some gently to try and bring down his heart rate some. He could feel it thump in his chest, every little pump it made. Again his fingers found another arrow in the quiver. Fingertips felt the crown of this soon to be downrange missile. His arrow was sitting horizontal in line with his waist line. The arrow came to the string and fit snugly. Wind, he needed to account for wind now and see what was downrange.

The wind was still consistent with what he knew about his last arrow. Still heading toward the West…off to his right. But what about intensity; that had switched from before. He knew by watching the leaves rustle as some of them even fell off falling to the ground lazily. Getting intensity was easy enough, but accounting for where it would be when he released was difficult…but not if he moved quickly. All he needed to do was adjust for the intensity and everything else was still good. His last arrow had hit to the right but it would’ve struck close to the target. And he could walk it from there.

Quickly his mind took a snapshot of his last arrow, it had hit past the target meaning he had overcompensated for the distance. He needed to drip down a little, but only a hair. Then there was the wind. It had shifted out toward the target to be more intense but here where he stood to about eighty or so feet it was still the same. Meaning no adjustment needed to be made. Quickly he drew up and exhaled. His hand found his cheek; the same anchor point as always. And unlike last time he didn’t take time to let the arrow sink in before he released it. No, those precious moments were supposedly what sunk his arrow off to the right the first time; he would not make the same mistake twice and be chided from Ildin on the same miscount.

It seemed like too quick of a release for him though. Almost like he had rushed things a little too fast; mostly because he had become used to taking that slow exhale with the string drawn before releasing the arrow to meet downrange. Now that he wasn’t taking this spacious amount of time it seemed like he was ushering things along too fast. But the arrow was loosed regardless and he would see the fruits of his acts just like before. The arrow made its laborious flight toward the still stationary target downrange. The flight still seemed to take forever in his mind; he was used to much closer targets than this. Again how would he ever hit something that was moving at this distance? Even for Ildin that task had to be nearly impossible; especially if the target knew you were there. It could just watch you and then wait for you to lose an arrow. Then dodge out of the way. The slightest movement would bring them out of harm’s way. Obviously for an arrow to mark effectively at this range the archer would have to remain hidden…another skill he would have to work on.

IT made again a good path out to eighty five feet, the next leg however was where everything would be determined. Unlike before the arrow seemed to be on track for the next twenty or so feet after that, then strayed some. The wind picked up and blew the arrow off course to the east…his right. But it seemed that he had overcompensated for this wind to begin with so the arrow hit closer to target than before. It wasn’t a victroy but it certainly would’ve looked like one…to a less trained eye.

“That was just pure luck and we both know it. But you improved. As you draw back exhale to steady your body. You don’t need to take your time with the string drawn…that only tires the arm and body. As I said before when you make up your mind to shoot just shoot.” She always stated his failures plainly, as if he didn’t know them. She would be the first to tell him what he was doing wrong, and the first to also tell him that he was improving as well. He appreciated her steady guiding hand in this, without her there was no way he could reach a proper complete competence in this art.

“Yes Mistress” He answered diligently as he leveled his bow again to watch the wind.

“You can say Yes Mistress all you want Serrif. Show me results.” She chided some goading on her student to what she knew he could accomplish. He could do so much more if he put his mind to it. If he would just stop judging everything so diligently and instead just let his senses guide him. “Just shoot like you know, you don’t need to stand there doing calculations and guesses all day. Archery at some point has to be about reflex and gut instinct. You have these things Serrif now use them” She urged as she watched to see what Serrif would do next.

“Yes Mistress.” To that Ildin just motioned downrange as if she was sick of hearing his chiming responses and instead wanted to see his results.

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

He would gladly provide her with something that resembled results once his mind would just shut up and stop trying to overload him with useless information. He tried to reign it in…tried. But for some reason it was almost like it wanted to reach out and find a reason for why everything was. Why his arrows had fallen short, and what he was going to do to try and correct it. He knew his mind babbling on wouldn’t do him any good. He had to develop instinctual shooting to take away some of the tediousness of the task. Build some kind of muscle memory so that his mind could do the important calculations while his muscles did the rest. He had to free up his mind so he could do this correctly.

“Clear your mind, don’t worry about the details. Your muscles know what they are doing. You have shot hundreds of arrows Serrif. Hundreds at all kinds of distances before this one. And this one is no different than ANY of those. It is the same, the same principals apply as all those hundreds of other arrows. It is just a little further. Just like the beach runs Serrrif. You CAN do this.” She knew that would help him concentrate some more. She had always pushed him just a little further, that was how the body developed best.

‘Yes mistress’ however this time the words were silently spoken, mouthed but no voice given to them as he closed his eyes.

Just a little further Everything was that way. All the rules applied; he still had to run but it was just a little further. A little. Not much; it was not out of his reach he just had perceived it as such. And this perception was wrong; he could hit it…he could. Ildin had told him so and she would not mislead him. She never had misled him; not once.

Still eyes closed his fingers found the crown of yet another arrow. Without looking he knocked it on the bowstring silently. Just holding it there bow still at the resting position. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet, he knew if he did he would begin to assess everything he did, and right now he was letting his muscles do all the thinking for him. They knew what felt right as well as what did not. His fingers knew what the nock in the arrow would feel like when it met the string correctly, where the center of that bowstring was. How the arrow would feel when it met that nocking bead on the bow that was held by a crimped piece of brass. His body knew these things and he needed to stop analyzing them if he was going to do this correctly; and ti Ildin’s satisfaction as well.

She knew what he was doing, she saw the muscles relax and almost ceremonially he lifted the arrow and placed it on the string. She knew his body had built up the memory for this activity. He needed his mind to only focus on the task. The things his senses alone could not account for. And what he was doing was good. Although she would never tell him this she found his steadfast courage to continue on through adversity admirable. He had been through much since he came to the isle, she knew this better than any. And he still had demons, but he was fighting them tooth and nail for what was rightfully his; for his life back. And one day he would have it; if he continued to fight hard enough.

His eyes opened and he exhaled, bringing the string back to his knocking position at his cheekbone. Almost immediately his mind began checking wind…the leaves falling toward the ground and the distance. No, he knew the distance that hadn’t changed at all. So he didn’t need to focus on that. He moved his attention elsewhere, the wind…the wind was what was important here. That would likely have changed. And he was right it had. Here where he stood the wind was the same again, but downrange it stopped at about ninety feet or so. His mind was about to try and calculate when he stopped it. JUST SHOOT his instincts roared as his fingers just released the arrow to the winds.

He wasn’t sure why, and he couldn’t stop the arrow from just shooting out of the bow and soaring onward closing the distance to the target. Even though the arrow moved quicker than the last two it still took forever. And the second it was released part of him felt guilt. Didn’t he need to do more calculation for this shot? He was at odds because part of him felt like he needed to and yet part of him was satisfied with what he already knew. Why? Why had he released that arrow with no more thought?

The arrow was the same as the first two out to about eighty or so feet. Then with there being no wind at all past that the arrow continued on…but this time strangely seemed to be on target better than the first two…how? Did his instincts know something that his conscious mind refused to tell him? What? Could this be it? He watched still and the arrow while on target overshot by only a foot or so. But still how? He was puzzled and continued to try and assess the situation.

She knew he was perplexed, but sometimes trusting one’s instincts could feel like that. There were things that the body just knew, and his mind just hadn’t caught up when his instincts had told him jump. It was an enlightening time for a person when they learned to trust themselves fully. And Serrif was obviously perplexed by what he had just experienced. So she took it on herself to enlighten him further.

“You knew with the wind that you had been landing to the right. So with the wind gone you knew that firing like you had before would mean the arrow would land in line with the target, given that nothing else but the wind had changed. You knew without having to confirm it. That Serrif is instinct.” She nodded and then motioned again out toward the target sitting waiting to be pegged.

“Yes Mistress, I suppose it is. Does this ever get any easier…trusting one’s own instincts?” He queried as he looked to her.

Her icy eyes met his and that truthful grin came across her face. “With time, but know there will always be something to be unsure about in every instance. You just have to learn that you know what to do, even if you are unsure your instincts are correct about it at first. That was a lesson in itself, perhaps for another time but now he was learning the basics of what to do, his instincts would get better…with time. “The target Serrif.” She reminded him motioning again out to the target for him… “on task.” Sometimes he felt like she was a schoolteacher.

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

Again he shut his eyes and drowned out his mind for a few moments. This silenced his active mind and instead brought his tactile instinctual mind to play. It seemed to know what it was doing, even if his active mind did not. His fingers again felt the familiar nock on an arrow. It was brought to the string easily. He felt for the bead only for a second and there it was…right where he knew it would always be. Right where it always had been all those hundreds of arrows. It never moved, the brass strippings clenched to the bead made sure of that. He pulled the arrow back seating it into the string. All this instinctual, he didn’t need to assess it; he had done this countless times before now. Every arrow had met the same place, why worry about it? He knew where that place was. Just like his left arm knew how to hold the bow…and where to hold it.

Resting, his active mind just like his bow was resting. Making itself ready for when it would be needed. When he made the bow active and armed his eyes would again open; making the more active part of his mind alive again working out the last minute details of what he was about to do. To fine tune the final details before the release of that arrow. But until then everything was the same, nothing had changed, just the distance to the target and a few minor other things he could and would worry about when he got there. They were small things; things he could and would manage just fine when the time came. But that time was not now…no that was later. Just a little later than now.

The bow brought up vertical and his mind sat ready to pounce once those eyes opened. Almost like a tiger waiting for prey, all his mind needed was the visual input and his arms would move correctly. That was all that needed to change possibly. But he would get there when he got there. Right now he was still not even armed. The string was still at the ready position not yet pulled. That changed in a moment, quickly the string was pulled back to his cheek and his eyes shot open as he exhaled. His heart rate dropped and his mind went to work. Where he was again had not changed, so he went to focusing outward…downrange where it mattered. Where all his miscounts had been. Still…still no wind. Just as before and before his mind could even tell him what to do he lowered the bow slightly and released.

Was this what instinctual archery felt like? It was almost like there was a disconnect between his mind and his body. Almost like they were warring but yet trying to accomplish the same task. One just went for it while the other wanted to stand back and try and perfect everything. Both were needed but it was like he didn’t have to tell himself anything; his body just adjusted for it…almost like there was nothing to worry about. It felt odd to him, but right in the same moment. He had to trust his muscle memory. Out there if he had to take a life he couldn’t be pondering about it all day; he had to decide, and once he had he needed to commit to it. Fully and then own it. Make it his because he couldn’t let his life be taken because he couldn’t shut up his mind that was weighing all the consequences for him like rice on a scale. Sometimes…sometimes instincts had to make the decisions for him. Or else he would never stop trying to reach for rice to balance one side of the scale against the other.

Again it sailed downrange as he watched with anticipation. IT was almost like he expected something spectacular to happen, something different than just the arrow traveling downrange. It wasn’t going to do anything spectacular besides maybe hitting the target. Nothing else beside confirm or deny him the pleasure of knowing for sure that he had the instincts needed to do this fully. To execute this task and trust himself. No, it went…Ninety feet, this was the threshold that he had past so many other times before this and yet he was still anxious to see where it would go. What it would do like there was something different in this flight than all the others.

And even if there was would he notice it…Yes, yes he would. It was on route, just like the last one only it was dipped slightly more, on a lower course than before. Lower was better because his last arrow had been high…if only lower like this one it would have struck true. The anticipation was palpable as he waited. The moments seemed like an eternity as the arrow dipped and struck the target. It hit…but just barely. Although he felt jubilation well up in him he knew that this was only now the beginning of the exercise. Ildin would not praise him; no there was no parade here for a menial task like this. He was learning, and hitting this target just meant that he had been taking in everything that Ildin had taught him. That he had been listening. So he nodded and a slight smile spread across his face, he had done it, but there was still plenty of room for improvement.

“Now, let us see if you can replicate this result. Luck Serrif means nothing out there. Skill does. What determines the two is consistency. Luck runs out, skill never does.” A contract had to be made, yes that single hit could be luck, but what would help determine if it was skill was consistency. Serrif needed to be able to produce the same results again and again. Otherwise he was just lucky and not skilled.

“Yes mistress.” He nodded and the smile slowly faded from his face. He still felt the buzz from his success, even if it seemed slightly tarnished by Ildin seemingly chiding him telling him it was luck…but was it? Because it sure didn’t feel like it was just luck.

“Now Serrif, show me skill” She challenged motioning to the target that awaited him in the distance.

Just like ever it waited him, ready never flinching, and never moving. It waited…a test of his skill even if he was not completely ready for it. It sat opposed to him in a way. A testament to what he was going to accomplish. One day…one day these skills would mean something. They would help him. But now, now it all seemed foreign to him. Like he couldn’t imagine taking a life with an arrow. But he knew, his instincts knew he would have to one day. There would be no alternative to what he would have to accomplish. And he would have to again draw back that string and lose an arrow. That time the target would be living…but this one for now was not. And he was glad more than words for that truth.